


The Night Eats The World

by powerofsand



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Documentary, Double Penetration, Drug Use, M/M, Oral Sex, Orgy, Sex Worker Cloud Strife
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:14:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25941193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerofsand/pseuds/powerofsand
Summary: Cloud exited the hotel room, barely holding it together. He was packed full of drugs and Gil.  He wandered the rest of the night, gait unsteady, and shoes missing. A lost soul was engulfed in shadows.
Relationships: Cloud/various
Comments: 5
Kudos: 15





	The Night Eats The World

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Servetolive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Servetolive/gifts).



His shift started at 11pm. The itchy fabric of cheap fishnets were pulled up over his knees just past his thighs, lightly defined, smooth as a baby. Jean cut out shorts went over it with blue spiked heels and a see-through mesh shirt completed the look.

"It's dangerous, yeah." The whore said, contouring his face in heavy layers. "We don't have a pimp. Some johns take advantage of that and rape us; take our money."

The camera went out of focus for a few scant seconds before zooming back in to the man at the makeshift vanity, alone in a condemned building. No electricity or working water. The production team set up additional battery powered lights and store-bought candles to get proper lighting.

"I've had a gun pulled on me so many times I've lost count."

"Then why do it? Why do this?"

"It's all I know and I'm good at it." Lipstick, a bright garish red, was applied to over plump lips. "Probably the only thing I'm good at."

This was Cloud, a young man, early to mid-twenties who walked the streets of Sector 4 searching for sex, for money, for drugs. Tonight, a john had already been lined up in a nearby motel notorious for being a hotspot for prostitution.

"This one is a regular." Cloud said into the lens. His heels resonated on the concrete. "He likes me because I still look good, unlike the others. I don't have any visible track marks or anything. My teeth are straight. I like to smoke my dope."

They parted ways at the shady entrance. A bright, neon pink sign blazed the words "Pinky’s Motel." Rough individuals loitered in the lot, many of them shaking and scratching in various degrees of addiction or unwanted withdrawal.

Cloud wore a wire with a hidden camera attachment. The footage would more than likely not be used, but he wanted to show this part. The desperation and grimness on both sides; the relationship between a whore and a mark.

He went past the bored, heavily tattooed clerk to the stairs in the back up to the third floor, Room 311. A knock in a specific pattern was used and Cloud adjusted the tiny camera just before the door swung open.

"Hey, sugar." Cloud purred, brushing up against the mark, looping a finger in the belt loop and pulling the stranger with him. The door closed behind them.

He was a different person when tricking, smooth and confident as he opened the jeans of the mark and fell to his knees.

"Been a while. You're not getting tired of me are you?"

"Never," the mark declared winding thick stubby fingers through Cloud's tangled up spikes.

He looked up, locking their gazes while he freed the marks erection letting it hit against his forehead with a wet smack.

"I'd hope not, big daddy. I'd miss this big dick so much." The shy, reserved young man they'd met earlier was nowhere to be seen. In his place was a wild succubus.

"Fuck yes… open up for me baby. Suck me." The engorged length slid against his face a few times before Cloud grabbed a hold of it and sucked it down to the root. His cheeks hollowed out noisily.

"Oh my god, dude, cut the feed!" Cried the reporter.

"No, damn it. Get away from there. This is good shit! The viewers will love it. We can edit out faces and most of the sex acts."

"But that's …"

"I know! We'll blur it out."

Cloud's head bobbed, letting the cockhead slip out with each upward motion. He spit clear, slightly thick saliva onto it before swallowing it back down. The mark moaned and thrashed.

"That's it. Eat that dick baby, make it explode." The grip in Cloud's hair became painful, signaling a quick end to the session. He doubled his efforts, reaching out to cup and play with the balls underneath. He made more eye contact from underneath false lashes. Red lipstick smeared all on his face and the cock in his mouth.

The man moved with the motions of his head, fucking down his throat until he coughed.

"Fuck!" Mark yelled and pulled out to spray thick ropes of semen across his cheeks and nose. 

"Ugh damn. I love coming on those cute little freckles." Cloud was let go and immediately dug into his beat up fanny pack for a wipe. He cleaned his face while Mark reached for a wallet.

"Here you go, sweetheart."

*****  
"How much did you make?"

Cloud was busy vomiting into the cracked sink of an all night diner some hours later.

"Enough to go home." 

He didn't go home, he visited the corner of a local dealer first. The camera crew wasn't allowed within eye sight and Cloud made sure to disconnect the spy cam. He resurfaced a few minutes later, tucking away a baggie.

"Now it's time to head home."

He didn't eat. The building had no place for food storage and a significant amount of gil had been used to support his habit. He smoked laid out on a bare mattress spring in a corner of his dwelling.

There was something unnervingly beautiful in the young prostitute, still attractive by most standards, surrounded by filth; bathed in candle light. Alone. Always alone, as Cloud would say: "I don't have anyone around who cares about me. All I have is tricks and dope."

"How do you normally pass the time?"

There was no TV and the radio left behind only played static.

"Like this." The lighter was lit under the pipe, whatever residue in it burnt up and inhaled. "I blaze and I float away."

A sad reality for most on the streets. The lighter clicked sporadically until there wasn't anything left in the glass. Cloud was face up on the mattress with an arm slung over his face. He didn't respond to any more questions. The sun lamps started to brighten, simulating morning. Rays shone through the cracks illuminating various insects skittering around.

"Uh, he's out. That's it for the night...day, whatever."

The camera crew packed up everything of value no matter how small and left him in what is commonly called a trap house.

***  
Five men rented a room at Pinkys. It was Cloud's biggest score yet with a promised payout of over a thousand gil. The men were extremely vague about what they wanted him to do.

"Oh, y'all doing a show about hoes? Yeah I don't mind being in it! Me and my boys love the hoes, especially these Sector 4 bitches." Despite this, only two members of the team were allowed in: the cameraman and sound tech. This was in order not to crowd the small room.

"They are a whole other breed. Aren't you ho?" The speaker spat in Cloud's face. A sliver of a pink tongue lapped it up. Already reading the vibe of the group.

Degradation, a common trait in people from nicer sectors. The more money and drugs they had, the more depraved the demands. It wasn't a quick nut being sought out but a deep need to cure a dark desire or a weird kink their wives weren’t willing to do.

Sector 4 whores were objects of depravity after all. Pay one enough and you own them for the night. Whatever you want.

"Get him in the tub first, man. He a gutter boy, gotta wash it first." The trick winked at the audience while his friends led Cloud into the bathroom.

_What happens next, although heavily edited, depicts acts of an extreme sexual and violent nature. Viewer discretion is advised._

"Hey, there we go! All nice and clean. Put him on the bed." Cloud was barely lucid, with his eyes rolled back.

"Packs a punch, huh? That's the Cram; it's what they pass around the Bee." The ring leader was very fit and heavily scarred. They all were to different degrees. Possible gang relations.

This group bared their muscled bodies quickly and without shame. It wasn't an easy score for Cloud. He had to work for the gil.

They inserted large toys into his anus while another was thrusting erratically underneath him, large hands spreading Cloud apart to better display the gaped out anal entrance to the other clients.

The other four joined them on the bed. He got it in the mouth, the vagina, in the same place with the objects still lodged in while he screamed like a banshee. He wanted more dicks, he wanted it harder.

"Oh god, destroy it!!" The mattress springs squeaked rapidly, rocking the legs of the bed off the floor in some instances. "Rip my ass open, yes!"

No one wore a condom. Payment was increased to compensate for no protection in the form of a yellowish powder. All of the participants engaged in snorting this, a majority of it being given to Cloud.

"Come inside me. I need it, baby." He faked pleasure in the toys tearing at his insides. He more than likely didn't feel at all anymore. His body moved with them, mouth held open to an extreme degree to take in two penises at once.

None of the team dared to help. There was no escape from something like this.

***

 _'Why did you film it?'_

_'We got caught up in the moment, man. I'm sorry. I'd never seen anything like it.'_

'We are trying to help these people, not exploit them more!'

 _'There is no saving that one.'_

***

Cloud exited that hotel room barely holding it together, pack stuffed full of cram and gil. He wandered the rest of the night, gait unsteady, shoes missing.

A lost soul engulfed in shadows.

***  
"First off, I'd like to apologize for the behavior of my cohorts. It was not my intention to capitalize on your situation in any way." The reporter adjusted the lense himself this time, having met Cloud the next night after the incident.

"I've replaced most of the crew but if you don't want to continue with this documentary I'd totally understand."

"No, it's ok." He scratched at the bruises on his cheek and avoided eye contact. Cloud was sat outside the convenience store. He picked off small bits of a turkey wrap and popped it in this mouth.

"I don't eat much." He said with a mouth full of food, "There usually isn't much left over and I don't have a fridge to put stuff in." He washed away the sandwich with a swig of top shelf vodka.

"You think it's because of the drugs and alcohol. Is that why you're broke most of the time? " Cloud shrugged.

"I've never been good with money."

"Did having no money lead you to where you are now?"

"Being a failure did. I used to want to be somebody, you know." He put the barely eaten wrap down and drank solely from the bottle of alcohol. The camera paid special attention to the strung out expression and glossy red rimmed eyes.

"I got heavy mako poisoning while in training." He laughed. "I was gonna be a SOLDIER. Instead I was dropped after the accident. I was damn near brain dead."

"Mako poisoning can be lethal. You obviously survived though. What happened?"

"Hey guys, you can't film out here."

The store manager had come out at some point during the conversation and demanded they leave as to not upset the customers. Their lips were curled in disgust when they saw Cloud.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore." He said back at the trap, speech slurred. "I have to wash before work again." He went to fetch some milk jugs full of murky water. He was still dressed in yesterday's clothes.

"You're not really in a position to be going out right now man…"

"Shut up!" Cloud suddenly yelled at them, "Get out. Y'all get the fuck out of my house!" He threw the empty vodka bottle at one of the camera men, nailing them in the leg.

"Alright, alright. Relax, please." The interviewer stepped into frame. The video cut out soon after.

*****

Later on the crew tried to dig up information about this failed recruit. Their search attracted the attention of certain entities within the Shinra Conglomerate. Production was halted for several months while agents in dark suits went through notes and video footage.

They were questioned about the street walker with the mako eyes who went by Cloud.

He was no longer at the abandoned building when the reporter came back. There was no trace of him anywhere.

**Author's Note:**

> I am so happy to be back and posting. I spilled coffee on my old laptop, a tornado happened, life is crazy right now. Thanks so much to servetolive for requesting this fic, editing it and being all around supportive. Love you cuz.


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